A time for Hope...

For the past 14 years, right around mid-November, I begin to feel a sadness descend. It’s not overwhelming any more. It has certainly lessened over time. Now it appears like a thin veil of sadness, blanketing my daily routine.

It’s interesting to me how our bodies remind us of events. Or the smell of the air. Or a holiday.

Fifteen years ago, right after Halloween, I got sick. Nothing too bad- just started running a fever around 102. I didn’t think it was too big a deal, but just to be safe, I called my OB/GYN because I was pregnant for the first time and I wanted to make sure that this type of thing was ok. I was reassured.

That was the beginning of an entire month of events that ultimately led to the loss of our first child, Hope.

Fifteen years. She would’ve been a full grown teenager now. Would she have looked more like me or Mike? Would she have more of Kiernan’s personality or Kadyn’s or be totally unique? Whose body type would she have? What would her passions be? Her gifts? Would she like to shop and watch British historical dramas with her Mom? Eat brownies?

Those are the types of things I begin to think about in mid- November.

This year, it’s hitting a little harder. I’m feeling challenged physically, emotionally, spiritually, practically- just in every way right now. I’m constantly having to steady myself and call myself forward in the most positive ways I can, while feeling disbelief and wonder at what’s happening around me.

But when I’m quiet and calm and centered, I know the truth. I know that Hope’s journey was complete as she came through me. I know that she is still a part of my daily life. I know that her physical form was temporary, but her energy, spirt and soul live on. And I can sense and hear her. And she reminds me of how we came to choose her name.

Hope. Always. Always hold on to Hope and Her. Never let either of them go- even when I can’t see them. Allow their energy to continue to infuse me and guide me. Remember our connection wasn’t formed in this lifetime and won’t end when my body ceases to exist.

So today, I honor my daughter, Hope Altman McCafferty. I thank you for the gifts you continue to offer me. I am so grateful you chose to come through me and my wish is that you sense the love both your Dad and I feel for you. Always.

In loving,

Sarah